


Soria Moria

by radokami



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Drinking, Gen, Horror-ish, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, POV Second Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radokami/pseuds/radokami
Summary: Mari texted you about it, once. A painting about finding true happiness on the other side of a vast fog.You're still trying to make your way through.
Relationships: Kurosawa Dia & Matsuura Kanan, Kurosawa Dia & Tsushima Yoshiko, Kurosawa Ruby/Tsushima Yoshiko
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

The alarm clock startles you awake. Must’ve been dreaming, but whatever about fades rapidly as you rise to silence the blaring. It’s replaced by a vague gratitude to yourself for following the same routine everyday, work or no. You can brush the mess out of your hair not worrying about what day it is.

You follow the spacious hallway to the kitchen, methodically prepare your morning tea, let its warmth bring you to life as you gaze out the window. Over the years, this routine has found a way to blur together, but it’s the little things that keep you present. The faint bitterness of your tea, the ambient light peeking through the window, a new paper to read every morning.

A pang of trepidation rises in you as you scan the paper for the date - do you really want to have the day off that badly? Saturday… oh. September 1st. That’s why. Your heart sinks, your tea loses its flavor. The paper might as well be written in another language, it’s so incomprehensible beyond that date.

You stand up. No sense staring at it for longer than you have to. Your tea sits unfinished, growing cold as you head for the garden, the most comforting place in the house. That’s what you need.

Though the blooms are long gone, the azalea bushes are still pretty in a way. Placid and verdant, just like the trees. Leaves rustling all around you, mingling with the distant sound of waves in the bay. There’s no corner left that you haven’t explored, nothing new to focus on, but somehow this garden never becomes indistinct in your mind. It pulls you back, for now, brings you a modicum of peace. Maybe it’ll stick. Hopefully.

* * *

The woody plucking of koto strings plays off the walls, filling the room with an old, familiar melody. Simple, traditional, uplifting, this was _your_ song. Yours and…

Maybe you should play something else, but this one has a way of making time pass more smoothly. Whatever you might have meant to do today, this is what you’re doing.

The tune sours when your ringtone enters on top of it. You don’t have to look to know who must be calling today.

“Kanan.”

“Hey, Dia,” comes the voice of your oldest friend, pitch sliding down in that way that whispers pity. “How ya holding up?”

“Well enough,” comes your reply, perhaps more prickly than you intended. “I appreciate you checking in with me, but it’s only the first-”

“So you're good? Keeping it together? Because I wouldn't wanna ask you out drinking if you couldn't handle it." The teasing lilt in her voice as she mentions alcohol shouldn't catch you off guard anymore, but it does all the same.

“I’m sure I _could_ handle it, but…” You trail off. But what? It’s not like you can fool Kanan any easier than you can fool yourself. “Oh, fine. I could stand to see you. I might not drink, though.”

* * *

“Another round!” you call out. Your speech isn’t slurred yet, you’ll be fine.

“Wow, Dia, I gotta admit I’m impressed,” replies Kanan from behind a wall of empty cans. “You just might catch up with me at this rate.”

Your vision focuses lazily on the still-full glass of water in the midst of all your empty sake cups. Sure, hydration is important, but-

Another cup of sake appears before you. You know what to do. The water can wait.

“Hell yeah!” Kanan pantomimes applause as she watches you go.

You pound another empty glass on the table, alcohol vapor burning your sinuses, and find it hard to hold your head up anymore. Another shock sets all the glasses clattering around you as you faceplant, still conscious.

“Woah, wait, are you okay?” The cool in Kanan’s voice evaporates. “Talk to me, Dia!”

“I’m…” Probably something. Your cheek is getting wet. That’s got to be the water glass.

Kanan’s hand on your shoulder suggests otherwise. Are you crying? That’s not right.

“I’m glad you brought me here, Kanan…” It’s suddenly hard to speak.

“Yeah, of course.” Her voice comes from next to you now. “I figured you could use some company.”

As always, Kanan sees right through you. More tears come, quietly, unceremoniously. You don’t deserve her.

“It’s okay. I’m here for you.” Kanan’s voice takes on a warm character as she sits you up and holds you tight. Her hugs have only gotten better as she’s gotten stronger. More comforting. It’s incredible, really. “Now drink some water, please.”

It feels like all you can do is comply, sipping down the ice cold water as fast as you can. Your head is still swimming, but at least you aren’t desperately thirsty now.

“We should probably go, shouldn’t we?” you offer, trying to rebuild your composure.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

You stumble as you get up, so the whole walk home you lean on Kanan. Ever since she grew that little bit taller than you, her shoulder is the perfect level for you to rest your head on. Part of you relishes the opportunity, knowing that you’d only let yourself get away with this while drunk. It’s brisk this late, too, so you manage to wrap your arm around hers with no teasing.

The change of scenery might typically help your mood, but you can’t forget that this is only the beginning. As September marches on, this will only get worse, and Kanan can only spend so much of her time babysitting. You shiver.

“Feeling okay there, Dia? We’re almost back.” God, what would you do without her?

Probably the same thing you do without-

Your train of thought is interrupted by a rustling noise in the nearby bushes. It’s not exactly suspicious, but in your inebriated, half-asleep state it makes you jump.

“What was that, Kanan?”

“Probably just a cat or something,” Kanan replies with a comforting laugh. “When’d you get all skittish again?”

You tense up, not ready to interrogate that development. Kanan lets it go, bless her.

And here's your front door. You hold onto Kanan for as long as you can justify it to yourself, but eventually she has to pry you off to give you a proper hug goodnight. Her muscular frame is still so soft and warm when she embraces you. It’s not fair. But you reciprocate, trying to make this comfort last as long as you can.

“Are you going to be okay, Dia? I can’t be here every hour of every day but if you need me, just say the word.” She pauses, idly running her fingers through your hair. “Or uh, at least let me check in with you. I wanna support you however I can right now.”

You bury your face in her shoulder, enough to muffle your response: “Okay.”

“Good, I'll hold you to that.” She breaks the hug for you and steps back. “Sleep well. And drink more water! I’ll catch you around.”

She turns, disappears into the darkness, and you stay on the porch for a moment, trying to collect yourself. It’s so good for you, having Kanan around. How are you going to cope alone?

The rustling sounds again, a bit closer to you than before. A shiver runs up your spine, and your heart beats harder as you fish your keys out of your pocket and duck inside. You stay still, glued to the door for what feels like an eternity, hearing only the sound of your breathing, trying not to let your imagination run wild. It was a cat. Or something. Nothing to worry about.

You follow Kanan’s advice and work an extra glass of water into your bedtime routine, so ingrained in you that the alcohol does nothing to make it harder. Before you know it, you’re staring at your bedroom ceiling, reeling from that special kind of dizziness that only strikes as you fall asleep after drinking.

It’s quiet enough that you’re quite sure you hear a voice just before you drift off. Distant, echoing, but unmistakable.

“Onee-chan?”

* * *

There’s an empty room in the Kurosawa house. Not empty, per se, all the furniture and such should still be in there. But nobody sleeps in that bed. If you went by your feelings, that door has remained closed for something like a decade. It's barely been a year, though. Nothing will ever get you used to that absence, that silence.

Maybe that’s why you spend so much of your time trying to fill the empty space. With your koto, or your records, or even the TV. Today, it’s the latter. Some horror movie Mari texted you about a few weeks back. It’s still hard to distinguish between what she recommends and what she only tells you about to make you squirm, but you’ve decided to give her the benefit of the doubt this time. For some reason.

You're not sure what's possessed you to try watching a horror movie. Maybe you'd rather experience someone else's emotional turmoil for a while. Or maybe your headache is keeping you from thinking this decision through. Either way, the couch is inviting.

To Mari’s credit, this one isn’t the kind that immediately repulses you. It doesn’t try to shock you with sudden cuts or jarring musical stabs. But it still gets under your skin with its discordant soundtrack and careful, tense pacing. Even as you watch the credits roll, you can’t shake the feeling something could be watching you. Great. _Just_ what you needed.

Your head pounds and spins as you rise from the couch, too quickly it seems. Your ears ring for a moment, and as your hearing returns you swear you hear a _creak_ down the hallway. No, you’re hearing things. Get something for your headache, already.

The kitchen is still and quiet, save for the hum of the fridge. You find the stash of painkillers in a random drawer and take exactly two. The shock of ice cold water washes them down along with whatever tale you may have been spinning around that lone, illusory _creak_.

You check the clock on the microwave; it’s only two in the afternoon. Certainly thanks to last night, and probably to your inactivity as well, your eyelids are already heavy. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t consider a nap, but this month all bets are off. You just have to get through the day.

The silence bears down on you in the hallway, slowing you to a crawl as your mind still wanders in the wake of that movie. There are no windows here, it’s dim even in broad daylight. Plenty of shadows to hide in. You shuffle past the empty room and feel a familiar chill creep up your spine like a draft from under the doorway. It would be nice to just turn away and keep walking, but the corner of your eye catches something.

_It’s open._

Cracked, just a hair, but the door is open. A whole array of possible scenarios calls to you from the back of your mind, each more horrible than the last, each telling you to just open it, see what’s inside.

You’re not about to hurt yourself just because you’re a bit jumpy today. You gingerly reach out and pull the door shut, kicking a year’s worth of dust into the air. Even as you wish desperately to simply forget this and take your nap, you can’t help but wonder how the door opened in the first place.

But no answer to that question could possibly comfort you. Better to keep walking, fall face first onto your bed, try to get some rest.

You roll out of bed an hour later, still groggy, but at least your headache has subsided. The image of that open door won’t get out of your head. Just the thought chills you for a split second. Shake it off. The hallway will be the same as ever.

Sure enough, the door remains shut. Still. Quiet. Must've imagined it opening.

* * *

The days pass like you’re wading through sludge. Work does its best to distract you, but your mind never fails to wander. It slows you down, makes you less productive. That’s not like you, you should be kicking into overdrive right about now. At least here you can tangibly do things right. Take pride in something.

Friday. September 7th. You’re home before you know it, back at the quiet Kurosawa house. Time to fill the space again.

You rifle through your box of records, looking for something nice to read to. An old Japanese jazz record, that should do nicely. Piano notes swirl around the room as you take a seat and reach for your latest read, an unremarkable but page-turny romance novel. You’ve gone through a fair few of these in the past year, slowly migrating them from the chaotic 'to read' shelf to one of the properly organized ones lining the walls. Maybe you can take some small pride in that.

You open to the middle of a scene - oh, great. You skip back and reread the few pages before your bookmark as the music breaks into a drum solo, skeletal enough so as not to distract you.

Before you can fully settle back into the book, remember what was going on, you hear something in the spaces between drum hits. From down the hallway, again, it comes.

_Laughter_.

The way it cuts through the emptiness and sneaks on top of the music is enough to make you drop the book with little regard for where you were. A few stray creaks, rustling bushes, these can be rationalized. Short of you losing it, this can’t.

As enticing as the thought of throwing open the door to the empty room, seeing the nothingness, and putting this all to bed may be, you can’t seem to stand up. Your legs won’t let you do this to yourself. Fine then. You grab your phone.

“Hey Dia,” Kanan answers, voice free of the pity you heard a week before. “What’s up, everything alright?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this, but do you think you could come over and give me a hand with something?”

“Uh, lemme check.” Voices in the background as she asks to leave work early. “Yeah, I can be over in a few. Is uh, everything alright, though?”

“It will be. Probably.” Hopefully that doesn’t spill too much. “See you soon, Kanan.”

* * *

“You want me to… open a door.” Kanan’s fidgeting, clearly not knowing whether to laugh or hug you.

“Yes. I realize this sounds trivial, but remember that rustling in the bushes the last time you came by?”

“You mean that stray cat?” Closer to laughter.

“That’s what I want very badly to believe. But there have been other noises, coming from parts of the house that should be quiet. And that door has already swung open by itself once! I really wanted to ignore this. I still can, if you’ll just go into that room and tell me that nobody’s in it.”

“Oh, Dia…” Kanan’s face softens. “Are you sure sending me in there will make this go away? I think you might just be-”

“Going crazy?” That might as well be the end of that sentence. “I know. Just do this for me, though. Please.”

Whatever rebuttal she might be formulating stays under the surface for now. She nods and heads to the hallway. To the empty room and the door that never opens. You follow at a distance, not wanting to see more than you have to.

Kanan opens the door and steps in casually, never faltering as the hinges squeak and the floor groans, the same way it did the other day. You shiver involuntarily in the silence that follows, but Kanan’s voice comes through to save you after only a few moments.

“There’s nothing in here, Dia. Nothing new, anyway. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here.” She steps out and turns to face you, brow furrowed, mouth in the slightest frown. “Is that good enough for you?”

“I… suppose.” It almost feels bad to let it go. At least pretending there was some kind of presence in there was preferable in a way to sheer, crushing _emptiness._ You approach Kanan and fall into an embrace. At least she’s here, sometimes.

She holds you for as long as you hold her, standing there in the silent hallway. Feeling another positive, tangible presence puts the past week into perspective, or so you hope. _This_ is what it feels like not to be alone. Hold on to it.

“Are you going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want.” Kanan’s offer to go the extra mile almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you reply, unsure if you believe it but hopeful you can will it so. “Sorry I made you skip out on work-”

“That literally doesn’t matter even a little bit. They get it,” she assures you, brows still knitted together but smiling now. You wonder again how you’ve kept her around this long, why you still deserve her company.

“Thanks, Kanan.” It’s hard to be articulate between the relief, the gratitude, and the _nothing_ lurking underneath it all. “This really is a load off my mind. Hopefully I won’t have to bug you about this anymore.”

“Anytime, Dia. Really.” She hugs you tight again, like she wants the sensation to stick with you. “And uh, if that cat shows up, let me know. I want pics.”

With that, she bids you farewell for the night again. This time, as you stand alone on the porch, there’s nothing lurking in the bushes, no feeling of being watched, no sound. Pristine silence again. It’s the best you’ve felt all week.

Hold on to it.

* * *

Another week passes by just a bit less oppressively. Work comes easier, you finish the book you’ve been reading - it was generic, but competent enough. If that’s the best you can hope for in the month of September, that’s still pretty good.

Coming home to the silence still feels a little like stepping into a parallel dimension, but you don’t avoid glancing at the door to the empty room. It’s just a door. Just a room. You can walk down the hallway without hearing things, or imagining something waiting for you in the shadows.

Now all that’s left is to confront the emptiness.

Easier said than done. So maybe it’s okay to spend the rest of the month playing your koto and forcing the time to pass. Just stay away from the horror movies.

Sometimes the intrusive thoughts come all the same, though. It’s on a Sunday night, as you’re changing and getting ready for bed, that you feel a pair of eyes on you. In _your_ room, of all places. The nerve, honestly.

This time, with your will bolstered by Kanan’s reassurance and your imagination free of whatever disturbing movie Mari has last texted you about, you can counter-narrate this feeling, at the very least.

This house is empty. You’re the only one in it. There’s no way anything could get in here.

You’re alone.

Of course, none of this actually prepares you to turn around and see, poking through the shadows in the corner, a pair of eyes.

_Same color as yours._

You jump, reflexively try to blink the image away, but it lingers just long enough. Rubbing your eyes finally banishes it, for all the good that will do now.

This isn’t over.

_Fuck._

* * *

The image won’t leave you. Those eyes. _Her eyes._ There’s no other way to interpret it. You wanted more than anything to be done with this, to let yourself confront this on your own terms, but it’s following you. _Taunting you._ Is it even just in your head anymore?

You called in to work. It felt bizarre to break your perfect attendance, but you know you couldn’t get a thing done today while this is stuck in your head. It’s time to take matters into your own hands. No making Kanan bail you out this time.

It’s midday. Sunlight pours unobstructed through every window in the house. You’ve opened every blind for this, triple-checked that every door is locked. Set the stage.

You stand before the door that never opens, to the empty room. To _her_ room. You take one deep breath. Two. Three. There’s nothing you can say to yourself to truly prepare, so it’s time to just take the plunge. You reach for the doorknob, shiver, open the door, your chest starts to go numb, take a step inside.

And here it is. Ruby Kurosawa’s room, as pristine and untouched as the last time she was here - about a year ago. A layer of dust has settled over every surface, whispering a finality you’ve been straining to keep at bay. Her idol posters and shelf of magazines and closet full of cute, girly clothes remain undisturbed, ready to be lived in again.

But there’s nothing in here.

No shadows to hide in. No corners hidden from view. You can see it all. And it’s as empty as the day you lost her.

Is this worse?

It would be horrifying to see something out of place in here, it’s true, but once again, all you’re left with is this empty room. This quiet. Ruby’s gone, and there’s nothing hiding in her room. You turn around to leave and sit with your grief, only to be stopped in your tracks by a tiny whisper in your ear.

“Please don’t go.”

Your heart skips a beat before pumping ice water through your veins, your eyes go wide, your breath catches in your throat. Why can’t this just be over? Why can’t you just be with this nothing without needing to fill in the space? _Why can’t you just let her go?_ You try to regulate your ragged, uneven breathing, and decide on one last look.

There are the eyes again. Like she’s standing right in front of you, but not all here. Your eyes fill with tears as you stumble backward, throwing the door shut and _running_ to your bedroom. Collapsing onto the bed, shuddering and sobbing, afraid and angry and desperately sad and alone.

Every choice you’ve made since Ruby disappeared has been to prevent this from happening. Keeping her case open, refusing to hold a funeral, leaving her room untouched, all because she couldn’t just be gone. She _had_ to be out there somewhere, so you had to be ready to welcome her back.

But even if you won’t admit it, you must know. You must understand that the only thing that could fill in that space now is a ghost of your own making. But you should be past that now that you and Kanan have both faced the emptiness. This shouldn’t be getting worse. So why is this happening?

One answer crosses your mind. This has reached a point some might call paranormal, so - no. It wouldn’t be worth it. Unless…

Okay, look at it this way. Either you're mad with grief and she can give you the closure you’ve been missing, or this is real and she can help you. She _has_ to help you. You won’t give her any other choice, because you don’t have any other choice. Fine, then.

You wipe away your broken expression in the bathroom, brush your hair again. You’ve got somewhere to be now.

* * *

Here you are, visiting a house in Numazu you never wanted to visit again, to see someone you never wanted to see again. Just your luck, but this isn’t for you.

_It’s for her._

You timidly knock on the door. Moments pass. Nothing. Now would be the perfect time to turn around and go back home and try to just forget all of this.

No. You try it again. Moments pass. Then, you hear the lock sliding. The door opens, and there she stands, squinting away the sunlight, dressed as ridiculously as ever, a feather sticking out of her now messy hair.

“ _Dia?_ ” Her voice is incredulous.

“Hello, Yoshiko.”


	2. Chapter 2

You’ve invited yourself in, despite Yoshiko’s barely coherent protests. You make yourself as comfortable as you possibly can on the couch in her dark living room. Every inch of the wall is hidden behind a massive bookshelf, some stuffed with manga, others with unlabeled, leather-bound tomes, still others stocked with jars and tubes filled with unidentifiable materials. If she'd let any light in here, you imagine the room would light up in a kaleidoscope of eerie colors. Or explode. You know enough of Yohane's post-Aqours exploits not to discount the latter.

“What do you want?” Yoshiko finally manages to ask, perched awkwardly on a stack of books in the middle of the floor. There’s no venom in her voice, only a paralyzed confusion that’s new to your ears. Her old air of knowing more than you is missing, but whether that’s due to time or momentary shock you can’t say.

“I want to talk about… Ruby.” The name chokes you up as you speak it, like your body is still trying to hold a massive set of floodgates closed.

“ _Ruby?_ ” Yoshiko whispers. For her part, she looks to be holding back tears of her own. “Why?”

“Ever since she disappeared, I’ve wanted nothing more than to believe I would see her again someday. And I thought that maybe I was finally ready to let go of that. But now…” How to put this in a way that makes the tiniest amount of sense to you? “I think it's possible I'm… haunted. Like there’s something in my house, going into her old room, making noises, looking at me with _her eyes_. Like it’s _her._ ”

Yoshiko remains unmoved, puzzled, like this scenario is too outlandish even for her.

“I know it sounds absurd when I say it aloud, but I'm not sure this is just in my head anymore. You’re still the one to talk to about this sort of thing, no?”

“So you’re haunted?” Her confusion is replaced by intense concentration, like she’s trying to recall the contents of an entire encyclopedia at once. “I do know some things about hauntings, but. Hold on. You think _Ruby_ is _haunting_ you?”

“That’s the best way I can think to describe it, yes. Is that even possible?”

“Well, it would be unusual, but-”

“Unusual? You’re entertaining talk of me being _haunted_ , this is all unusual!”

Yoshiko starts to shrink away from you. What is she hiding?

“I know you were the last person to see her. And I know what you do these days. I’m starting to wonder about your role in all this.” Your eyes narrow, anger slowly taking the place of your grief. You try not to grit your teeth as you continue. “So why is it that you don’t seem all that surprised?”

She squirms helplessly under your now piercing gaze.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Yoshiko. I think it’s time you did.”

And her shoulders slump. You win the standoff.

“Oh, alright…”

* * *

“It was our third year. After Aqours disbanded I had turned the fallen angel bit up to 11. But pretty quickly it started to feel like something was missing. I couldn’t pinpoint what until Zuramaru came to me with an old book she had found hidden away in the temple - a book full of spells.

And they weren’t like that theatrical psychic routine I did when I was a first-year. They had real rituals, material components, incantations. And they mattered. The first time I tried one, I embellished the incantation a bit and it literally blew up in my face. Took weeks for my eyebrows to grow back…”

“Serves you right,” you interject, stifling a spiteful chuckle. Yoshiko pointedly ignores you and continues.

“That was about the time Ruby nominated herself to be my assistant, to keep me from hurting myself like that again I guess. So with her support, I dedicated myself to figuring out all of the spells in that book, one by one.

Some were really simple and had pretty lame effects, like shooting sparks from my finger or changing the weather, but the more complicated ones could do some really cool shit. I started using them on stream, and my brand started to morph from fallen angel to witch.

We kept working through the book, mastering each spell in order, and eventually we got to this _one spell._ The one that fucked everything up. I… don’t even remember what it was supposed to do. I should’ve known from how weird and specific the materials and incantation were, or the fact that it needed two people to cast it.”

Your chest tightens. You start to see where this is going, and the thought that an otherwise innocuous project could derail so severely, warp the lives of everyone around it, is a new kind of crushing. Is this really better than going without closure?

“But I still really wanted to try it! This was just a challenge, a chance to prove I was the real deal. So I gathered the materials, went over the ritual with Ruby, and soon enough the time came to try it out. I inscribed the circle, we spoke the incantation together, there was a flash so bright it blinded me for a second.

And when I could see again, Ruby was just… gone. Maybe she messed up the incantation, or maybe I did, or maybe the circle was wrong, or I got lazy with the components, or… Whatever it was, she left no trace. It was like she had never even existed.

I knew I could never speak of this to anyone, so I kept quiet when you came around looking for her. Didn’t breathe a word of it to Zuramaru, nobody. I don’t know if you stayed in touch with the rest of Aqours, but I left the group chat after that. Couldn’t stomach talking to any of her other friends.”

* * *

“And now you’re back to haunt me for it.” Yoshiko hasn’t made eye contact with you since the very beginning of her story, but now she finally rises to meet your gaze again, her eyes so much more tired than when you first arrived. “You Kurosawas are good at that, huh?”

After all that, you have no idea what to say. Some pathetic part of you feels pity for her, but far more of you is consumed by a darker anger than before. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, stop gritting your teeth, unclench your fist. As much as it disgusts you, you still need her. The grief and the rage can be bottled up, pushed aside, saved for later. Just stay strong for now. Do it for Ruby.

“That may have been a bit much, sorry.” To her credit, she seems to have picked up on your distress. “This is all to say, I know I fucked up really bad, and if there’s a chance I can help you, make things right even a little bit, I want to try. You deserve that much.”

“So you say.” Your eyes are dry from drilling her with an unblinking stare. “What can you do?”

“Right, so like I said, it seems unusual that Ruby would be haunting you, in your house, considering the circumstances, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” She rises from her improvised seat, her movements stiff, and grabs a few tattered books from her shelf. At least one is a manga volume. “So we just need to verify that it’s her, and then try to send her spirit on its way. Put her to rest, you know.”

“Put her to rest…” The words stab into you. The grief is returning. You call on the last of your furious energy to clench your fist resolutely. “Okay. Get packed. You’re staying over.”

* * *

You arrive at the Kurosawa house with a guest for the first time in what feels like forever. Kanan doesn’t register in your mind as a guest anymore, so parts of your brain that have been untapped for months start activating.

They’ll have to work extra hard to overcome your lingering disgust at having Yoshiko Tsushima in your house.

“So... where do I sleep?” Yoshiko tentatively breaks the silence, carrying only a stack of books and a precarious clutch of jars. “Is uh, Ruby’s room still-”

“You are _not_ going in that room without me, ever.” You’re not quite sure what you’re afraid of if Yoshiko goes in there, but the very thought feels sacrilegious all the same. “We have a guest room that you can use.”

“Cool, cool.” Yoshiko pokes around like she’s been a regular in this house the whole time, examining the bookshelf, flipping through your records. It feels like she’s violating you somehow just by being here, but at least now there’s another person around.

Baby steps.

You wait patiently for her to tire herself out, but after a few more minutes you can’t help but clear your throat to redirect her attention. She jumps and turns to face you, eyes wide like she’s been caught doing something wrong. You can feel the tension in her shoulders from across the room.

“Do you want to maybe… get a feel for the situation before you make yourself too comfortable?” You put on the most diplomatic tone you can manage.

“Oh. Yeah, let’s do that.” She looks slightly deflated as she finally lays out her armful of supplies and turns back to look at you. “So tell me about this haunting.”

“This all started on the first of the month. I kept hearing rustling noises outside. Then creaking in the hallway. The door to her room opened by itself. I heard laughter, sometimes I even heard her whispering to me...” You almost lose your composure just listing the events off, as your mind plays each back in detail. “Most recently, I’ve been seeing her. Or, part of her.”

“Her eyes, you said?”

“Right. It was like they were peering at me from thin air. Like she was here, but… not entirely.”

“Can we uh, check out her room then?” Yoshiko hesitantly offers.

“Hm. Yes, let’s.” You lead the way to Ruby’s room, Yoshiko in tow. You open the door - it’s easier this time - and gaze upon the emptiness in between all of the relics your little sister left behind.

This is the first time Yoshiko’s seen it, so you try not to hold her reaction against her. She looks about as broken as you must have when you were last here, on the verge of tears and still moving like her muscles are tied in knots. You hardly ever got to see Yoshiko like this before, and you’re not sure about seeing it now. It feels too intimate for someone you’re only one step away from hating.

You find yourself hoping to see or hear something out of place, in stark and painful contrast to when you were last here. But it’s quiet for now. Even as Yoshiko makes the floor creak inspecting everything, there’s an impenetrable _nothing_ in this room that won’t leave. You’d be satisfied just to be free of that, but you’re in too deep now.

A sneeze tearing through the silence snaps your full attention back to Yoshiko, who quickly resumes flipping through stacks of magazines like she’s looking for something. Must have kicked up some of that dust. Oh well.

Minutes more pass uneventfully, Yoshiko seemingly not finding whatever she sought in the bookshelf. The emptiness is everything. Something must be different this time. If Ruby truly is haunting you, maybe Yoshiko’s presence is too much for her. You can’t say you’d blame her if that were the case.

“I know I heard her in here last time, and saw her,” you whisper into the oppressive nothing. “I don’t know why it’s not happening now.”

“This is pretty common, actually.” Yoshiko manages to speak in a more normal register. She untenses slightly as she assumes the role of spiritualist. “It can take time for the presence to get used to other people.”

“I guess that explains why Kanan didn’t see anything when I sent her in here.”

“Yeah, it would…” Yoshiko’s look becomes distant, like the name has sent her back to high school. Back to Aqours.

“So how should we proceed?” You try to prod Yoshiko back into action.

“We, uh…” She shakes the sentiment out of her head. “We should set up a camera or two in here, monitor the place. Is there anywhere else you’ve encountered her?”

“She-” your breath catches, talking about Ruby like she’s still around. “She came into my room once.”

“Then we should set one up in there too-”

“No.”

“But-” Yoshiko cuts herself off before she can argue about it. A yawning silence opens up between you. She sighs it away and continues. “Okay. Just one in here and one in the hallway, then. The cameras should catch something within a day or two, prove that Ruby’s here, and then we can begin trying to put her to rest.”

The words are no easier to hear the second time, so you can only manage a nod. Just a few more days. Then you’ll be free of this.

And you can let her birthday pass by in peace.

* * *

Tuesday, September 18th. Last night you helped Yoshiko set up some cameras - or rather, one camera and her phone - and tried your hardest to get some sleep. You woke fitfully to your alarm this morning, not as well rested as you should be but eager to see what the cameras had picked up. Yoshiko was less enthusiastic to be up this early. Hopefully that tea you made her isn’t getting cold.

You sip away at your own in the garden, trying to temper your expectations with the calming sound of the waves. Even now, it works. Of course, turning this week into a formal, if impromptu, vacation probably helps. For better or worse, you’re not resuming life until this is dealt with.

Time starts to lose its meaning here, you notice, so you rise with your empty teacup and wander back inside to see Yoshiko sitting at your kitchen table, barely holding her head up with both of her hands.

“Do you get up this early everyday?” She groans, inhuman.

“Every day.” No pity for this one. Not yet. You hover your hand over her tea. Cold. You sigh lightly as you take it to dump in the sink. Even if she would’ve gone for it eventually, you can’t abide the thought of her microwaving it.

“So you wanna see what we got, huh?” The sleep gradually falls off of her voice as she speaks. “Can’t imagine why else you’d need me up too.”

“That was my plan.” Your voice, enthusiasm carefully restrained, only barely pierces the sound of running water as you wash the teacups. Your heart flutters, unsure how to feel but certainly feeling.

“Then I guess you should go grab my phone from Ruby’s room, I’ll get the one from the hallway.” Even as she sounds somewhat put together, she rises like something’s weighing her down. Something more than sleep, maybe.

Without acknowledging Yoshiko, you head for Ruby’s room. While it's easier to open the door each time, the time capsule on the other side may never fail to give you pause. You take it in for a moment, force the absence onto yourself like it’ll accomplish something. The swirl of dust you disturb into the air upon retrieving Yoshiko’s phone is the smallest yet.

It’s almost like someone lives here again. Almost.

“I don’t know if you’re really here, Ruby,” you begin, haltingly, to the empty room, trying not to choke on dust or grief. “But look. I’m finally doing something. You won’t have to stay for much longer if you… don’t want to…”

The sentence gets away from you as you speak it, drawing out a single tear. It still hurts like nothing ever has, but the more time you’ve spent specifically dwelling on this, the more it makes a twisted kind of sense. The easier it is to admit to yourself.

Ruby’s gone.

You wander back into the living room, where Yoshiko is already hunched over on the couch, scrubbing through the footage from the hallway camera. You wordlessly take a seat next to her and peer over her shoulder, fighting your discomfort at her proximity all the while.

“This is the boring part,” she mumbles, eyes already glazing over. “You can’t go too fast or you could miss what you’re looking for. So uh, get comfortable I guess.”

“Comfortable like you?” Your neck practically hurts on her behalf, her posture is so bad.

“You know it.”

Minutes pass in silence as you watch the hallway footage. It’s… just the hallway. Same as ever. Makes sense, most of your encounters have been auditory so far. Most, at least.

Minutes more. Your mind starts to wander. You check the playback indicator - it’s about a quarter of the way through the footage. For a moment you consider getting up and letting Yoshiko do all the work, but you shut that down quickly on two counts. Not only do you want to be there to see anything unusual for yourself, you’re also not sure you trust Yoshiko. You’re not sure you can trust her ever again, but you’ll burn that bridge when you get to it.

Minutes blur together.

“Mind if I put on a record?” You offer, cutting into the widening silence. You’re not entirely sure why you felt the need to ask, because you fully intend to put one on anyway, but the formality occurs to you nonetheless.

“Got anything good?” Yoshiko remains hunched over, uncomfortable just to look at, eyes on the camera.

“Everything I have is good.” Obviously.

“Hm.” She doesn’t offer a more substantial reply than that.

Fine. You rise and flip through your records, grateful to be doing anything other than watching footage of nothing from an awkward angle. As much as you want to put on something that will somehow repel Yoshiko, your instincts take over again and you reach for the back of the box, to an album that Ruby got you a few years ago. A vinyl from an idol group - an oddity, to be sure, but you always got the sense that this group was a bit more refined than the rest. Makes sense that your and Ruby’s tastes would overlap here. Shame you haven’t touched it in a year.

You drop the needle and blurry tremolo guitar spirals through the room. A strong start that makes Yoshiko jump slightly, just enough for you to notice. But soon enough she tilts her head, points an ear at the speakers.

“This is good,” she acknowledges before turning her undivided attention back to the camera again. You can’t help but smile at her approval, for some reason.

So you take your seat beside her again, one tick closer to comfortable this time, and watch the footage with a soundtrack. Something to fall back on when your focus wavers.

Side A of the record passes uneventfully. Nothing from the camera, the hallway is a bust. You rise to flip the record, leaving Yoshiko’s phone on the couch and thinking ahead to the next album you’ll pull. The music hardly kicks back in before Yoshiko starts talking over it.

“Are you _kidding_ me?” You can’t tell just by her tone if this is good or bad. “Dia, come look at this.”

You shake off the goosebumps that come with Yoshiko speaking your name and peer over her shoulder again, and your heart practically falls out of your chest.

From the very beginning of the footage, something is off. The shadows in Ruby’s bedroom tremble, lose their shape, swirl together, churning on the floor before gradually piecing together a vaguely humanoid form standing dead center in front of the camera. It takes one unsure step, then another, until it stands only inches away.

And there are the eyes again. Staring into the camera. This time, with the shock and the proximity dulled, you can make out an expression - inquisitive. Makes sense, that phone was the first change to the room’s scenery in a while.

Yoshiko speeds the footage back up, and Ruby seems to lose interest, vanishing relatively quickly. She leaves only a wisp of what looks like smoke in her wake, dissipating quickly, and the room settles back into its usual nothing. It stings to watch her go, overturing the nightmarish ache that will come with sending her on her way for good. Do you even want this to be over anymore? Maybe being haunted by your sister is preferable to confronting her utter negation.

“Is this good enough for you?” Your muttering is lost in the music, but somehow Yoshiko’s ear perks up anyway.

“This is…” Yoshiko’s casual tone cracks, her breathing loses its rhythm. “Enough.”

She sets her phone down, unwilling to watch any more. Sighing, she perfectly recreates her pose from the kitchen table earlier - doubled over, head in her hands. Something in you empathizes almost reflexively before you realize it’s not worth it. But you sit back down next to her anyway.

* * *

You stand in the doorway to Ruby’s room, watching Yoshiko skim through one of her tattered old books. It feels too soon for this all to be over, but that’s generously assuming that Yoshiko’s little exorcism - or whatever she calls it - works at all. Still, the way she methodically flips through her book, muttering indistinctly to herself all the while, lends her a certain air of credibility that she never really had before. She probably does know what she’s doing.

The month so far keeps playing back through your head, how lonely denial gave way to fear that what you’ve lost may not be properly gone, could be lingering, trapped here. Ruby doesn’t deserve that. She never deserved any of this, but sending her on her way has to be the best you can do for her now.

A corner of your mind clings to the twisted mass of emotion that thinking of Ruby conjures now. Regret, fear, loss, but also a distorted kind of attachment. In spite of, or maybe _because_ you kicked your grief down the road every chance you got, just allowing yourself to think of Ruby is a relief. Hearing her? _Seeing her?_ Blessings.

Maybe this doesn’t have to be over.

“You’re sure this is going to work?” you drone at Yoshiko, now well and truly dreading the emptiness ahead. There will be no pretending anymore.

“Don’t know why it wouldn’t,” she responds, still buried in her book. You had no idea there was so much preparation involved in something like this, but then again you never believed in something like this to begin with.

Your limbs start to go numb. You’re no longer ready for this. You take a few deep breaths, loud enough in the empty room that Yoshiko turns to look at you from the corner of her eye.

You start running.

Where to, you have no idea. You can’t think that far ahead anymore. But you can’t face this. Not really. The most coherent thought you can manage is that you maybe shouldn’t have telegraphed this for Yoshiko. She’ll be coming to drag you back.

And here she is, on cue, arms locked around you, leg wrapped around yours. Same way she did it back in high school. The old muscle memory shocks any thought of struggling out of your head and limbs.

“You think this is only hard for you, Dia?” Yoshiko is practically yelling now, for the first time since you’ve reunited. “At least do Ruby the courtesy of seeing her off properly!”

You look up at her and see tears flowing freely. This is new. But it should be no surprise that her grieving has been delayed and improperly done, too.

“I’m… sorry, Yoshiko,” you manage, shame welling up in the pit of your stomach. “You’re right. Let me go and let’s do this.”

She releases you without another word, turning around to dry her eyes before heading back to Ruby’s room. She looks back every few steps to make sure you’re following. This time, rather than let you stand back, Yoshiko tugs you along to sit next to her. Whether for help, security, or comfort, you can’t say.

She picks up the book again and starts muttering - not in a language you recognize, that’s concerning. Soon enough, she reaches the end of her selection and turns to you.

“Close the door.”

You nod and comply, still feeling like your body is half-useless but able to at least do this. Being shut in this room brings your dread to its peak, and you find your legs unwilling to hold up your body weight. You sit back down, praying that you aren’t needed for anything more than this.

“Ruby,” Yoshiko calls into the nothing. She doesn’t wait for a response, and continues in that bizarre non-language. You’re unsure what to even watch for as she goes, but eventually the wispy smoke from last night’s footage starts swirling together from out of nowhere, forming that humanoid shape. Those green eyes poke holes in the shadow, and your heart flutters in equal parts fear and elation. Though it may not be for long, you can see Ruby, here in her room. You thank the universe for at least allowing one last look.

Yoshiko’s chanting grows more intense, reaching a crescendo as she slams her book closed with a look of finality on her face.

The shadow goes nowhere.

“Was that supposed to be it?” You can barely speak, you’re so out of breath, but manage this one question in a weak whisper.

“That _was_ it,” Yoshiko says, eyes still closed reverentially. The composure drains from her face as she opens her eyes to see what you see. “ _What?_ ”

You’ve never seen Yoshiko so pale - surely an achievement for a shut-in like her. The shadowy form of Ruby stands just as still, watching her.

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t that work? It’s never not worked before!” You can’t blame her for the frustration rising in her voice. “I did everything right this time! _Why are you still here?_ ”

The shadowy form of Ruby starts to back away, then dissipates into as much nothing as she appeared from. You were expecting stillness after Yoshiko finished, but not like this. The tension is even more palpable than before.

You think to open the door back up, and Yoshiko rushes out without another word. The door to the garden slams shut a moment later. You’d probably follow her if your legs felt real.

You watch intently for the shadows to congeal again into a form that makes sense, but they remain undisturbed. Time might as well not exist in here anymore, and yet you wait for something new to happen. Sure enough, that same tiny whisper reaches out to you.

“Please help me.”

Nothing could have prepared you for those words. Your eyes, still wide open from witnessing Yoshiko’s failed exorcism, fill up with tears in an instant. In the entire year since you lost Ruby, you’ve never been this lost, this confused. You can’t formulate a reply to this shadow of your sister, so you double over, hold your head, and let meaningless time crawl on.


	3. Chapter 3

Yoshiko lays flat on a bench in the garden, eyes open but looking at nothing in particular. You’ve managed to put yourself back together and follow her here. She doesn’t visibly take notice, even though the sound of the door is hard to miss. All the distant waves are muted, the air is still. Nothing buzzes around the bushes or sings from the trees. The afternoon sun stares sickly warmth down at you as you weave between shadows. You clear your throat, as much to break this spell as to warn her of your arrival.

“She spoke to me again.” Your voice comes rough, gravelly, startling to your own ears. It’s been a long day.

“Really.” Her voice comes deadpan, drained of all its color. If not for the subtle rising and falling of her chest, you'd mistake her for a statue.

“She said… ‘please help me.’” The time you spent drying your eyes goes to waste as you repeat Ruby’s words.

“She said _what?_ ” Yoshiko snaps up and turns to face you. Her eyes are red, but her expression has given way to the same disbelief as when you first arrived at her house. “Seriously? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” For the first time, you really are. This was Ruby. And she spoke to you. “What does that mean to you?”

“Spirits don't ask for help. They always know on some level that they're beyond it. So between that and the fact that I couldn’t put her to rest like a spirit, that could mean…” Her brow furrows as she pauses, presumably recalling a piece of arcane lore or some such. “It could mean Ruby’s alive.”

The day just keeps getting longer. Through the impossible haze, now true _hope_ shows itself. Faint, at the edge of your perception, but you can’t ignore it. Of course, you don’t want to follow it prematurely, either.

“How could it possibly mean that?” Only a rigorous explanation could compel you to trust in Yoshiko.

“So, when I told you how Ruby disappeared, I… may have left something out.” She breaks eye contact again. Oh, this should be good. “I said I didn’t remember what spell I messed up to make Ruby disappear. But there’s no way I could really forget. It was the first teleportation spell I ever tried.”

“And why would you lie about that?” You raise an eyebrow, dreading the answer but needing it more.

“Because I kind of… fooled myself, too.” She sighs and collapses onto her back again. “There are a lot of ways a teleport can go wrong. And a lot of them are _really bad,_ but also extremely unlikely. Like, one percent or less. In all likelihood, I’d only drive myself crazy if I seriously considered any of those edge cases happening to Ruby. So I just told myself she died. Or, well, got unmade. That’s why I was surprised when you came around talking about a haunting. But I still couldn’t let myself imagine any of those other scenarios, so I went along with it.”

“So…” You take a deep breath, trying not to explode mostly because you couldn't possibly still have the energy for it. “One of those ‘edge cases’ happened to Ruby? Something worse than dying? And she’s been going through that _for a whole year?_ ”

“Well, this is where it gets weird.” She sits up again. “I don’t think this exact scenario has ever been recorded. I’m not totally sure _what_ happened to her, but I have one idea. And I don’t know if I’d call it worse than death, but…”

“What’s your idea.”

“Here, come on, I think I brought the right book.”

With what little she thought to bring along, it seems Yoshiko still came prepared. By the time you’ve found her in the living room, she’s already flipped open one of her three books to frantically skim the contents. Your arrival provokes an “Aha!”

“I brought my first spellbook, just in case something like this came up.” Conscientious. Impressive. Yoshiko keeps her eyes fixed firmly on the book. “And reading about the way this teleport is supposed to work, I think I know what happened to Ruby.”

“I’m not going to like it, am I?” At least you’re so exhausted that your imagination stays quiet. For now.

“Probably not.” She does you the courtesy of making eye contact before she continues. “The spell basically creates a wormhole by tunneling through a separate dimension. Or, I guess it’s more like a space between dimensions, like some kind of… void. So it’s possible that an error in casting could send one or both of the casters, uh. There.”

“To the void?”

“Just… a bunch of nothing, I guess. I’ve never been.” She chuckles nervously, likely more for her than for you. “Ruby must have been able to survive there for the past year, because usually if a caster of this spell disappears, they just don’t exist anymore. She’s here, but also not, so being a dimension or two out of sync makes sense.”

“Just tell me we can get her back.”

“I’ll need to tweak the original spell a bit, but… yes. We _should_ be able to get her back. Barring another colossal fuckup.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Figure out your spell.” Your frustration with Yoshiko feels about to boil over, but it’s mercifully pushed aside by hope. After a year of absence, after weeks of quite literal haunting, it overtakes you now, and you can't help but smile a small, weary smile. “We’re bringing Ruby back.”

* * *

How must it feel?

Being trapped nowhere, in a space between everything and everything else? You can hardly conceive of it. You don’t want to, yet your dreaming mind tries anyway.

Coming to for the first time, expecting to see something, _anything,_ but perceiving nothing. Being instantly and agonizingly subsumed by a panic that pales everything before. Remembering the body only as it starts to go numb, disintegrating into nothing with all the senses.

Becoming a creature of pure thought and emotion, utterly unmoored from anything to make real sense of. Losing track of time, existing only in the eternal, nightmarish moment. Each wave of panic is forever, until it is never.

And in between, only cold. Not a sensory cold, but a chilling void where the heart should be, _screaming._

Screaming for you.

* * *

You wake gasping, teary-eyed. Is _that_ what you’ve been dreaming all this time? You check the clock. 4:12 AM. A moment shaking the nightmare out of your head and you remember the date. September 19th.

Might as well rise, it’s not like another hour of real sleep would do you good at this point. You wander towards the kitchen and find Yoshiko unceremoniously passed out on the couch, her book open on her chest. Something in your tired mind compels you to at least set the book aside and drape a blanket over her.

You walk just a little faster to the kitchen to make some tea. This early, it’s still pitch-black outside, dead quiet. Every tiny clink of your teacup is cacophony. Maybe to the garden, then.

The moon is bright and nearly full, bathing the plant life in that ethereal half-light. The waves come as normal, though. You’re grateful for that.

“Ruby,” you mutter to yourself, still only partway conscious. Finally, the name conjures some of that old warmth, spreading from your chest even as the heat of your tea fades. The lingering images of what she must be going through right now send a chill to counteract it, but just the pure, dumb, immature hope that you can undo this loss keeps you from slipping, for now.

The end in sight is better than you ever could have imagined. Now stay on target.

* * *

Back on your koto, what feels like hours later. The same song as ever, with its uplifting pentatonic melodies, gives you something to focus on while you wait for Yoshiko to reanimate.

You still remember standing on stage, next to Ruby, singing this one. Three years ago, give or take, but that day will never fade. The rush of performing for a full house, then frantically running back to school to do it again. You could hardly breathe by the end of the day, and your legs felt like they might come apart from you, but it was all worth it. To see a passion project through with your little sister.

The wound of losing her was as much a wound of personal loss as of stolen potential. Her whole future, erased for no reason. All the things you could have done together, what you could have built, the songs you might have sung.

So you play this old song for her on your old koto, but this time not so much to relive as to celebrate that potential returning. All you _will_ do, what you _will_ build, the songs you _will_ sing.

Into this self-indulgent soliloquy stumbles Yoshiko, bedhead exacerbated by sleeping on the couch, following the sound of a song she used to sing, too. A song she wrote with you, and Ruby, and the others. Once she manages to rub the sleep from her eyes and see you sitting there, she does a double take.

“Was that you just playing that?” For as undead as she looks, she at least sounds something like she should today.

“It was.” You barely move to acknowledge her, fully absorbed by your instrument.

“ _My Mai Tonight,_ yeah?”

“Indeed.”

“Is this a… normal thing for you?”

“It’s about all I play, admittedly.”

“Yikes,” Yoshiko mutters under her breath. “Anyway, what I wanted to tell you is I think I’m getting close with the spell. It’ll still take some time, but we might be able to try it by tomorrow, so-”

“ _She’ll be here for her birthday,_ ” you whisper, so as not to scream. This is all going too well. “Then let’s make sure it gets done. Let me know if you need anything.”

* * *

The day creeps along in relative silence. You’re not sure if you were realistically expecting Yoshiko to need your help, but you’ve been just a tick away from truly relaxing all day, ready to jump up at a moment’s notice.

By late afternoon, you’re lounging in the living room, trying to make some progress on your latest romance novel, but you’re too scatterbrained to truly focus. Keeping an ear open for Yoshiko, looking forward to at last getting to see Ruby again, impatience to just get it all done. It doesn’t bother you, though. Better that you not distract yourself further so late in the game.

“Dia!” Yoshiko’s voice snaps your attention to the other side of the room, where she’s been fiddling with her jars and scrawling notes in the margins of her spellbook. She exhales dramatically, letting her shoulders fall in a long, satisfied sigh. “I think I’ve got it figured out.”

You blink rapidly. You were sure she’d have done at least some minor testing, that you would have had to yell at her for opening miniature portals to the void in your living room by now.

“You want me to give it a test run before we celebrate, huh?” She looks faintly disappointed. Like she thought you’d take her at her word.

“I do, if that’s not too much trouble.” You lace your words with just a hint of venom, to prod her into action.

And it works. She sets out some materials in a wordless huff, inscribing some kind of rune on a blank piece of tattered paper that she likely tore from one of her books. It all seems quite hasty, enough to raise your eyebrow.

“Didn’t you say the original spell needed two casters? Do you need me for this?”

“Not for one this small.” She recites some arcane gibberish, and in a flash not unlike an ultraviolet light flickering, a droplet of pure, inky blackness appears in front of Yoshiko’s hand. It whistles quietly, like it’s trying to suck the air out of the room. You feel a faint chill emanating from it.

“That’s where Ruby is?” Your eyes are so wide you can feel them drying out as you speak. Something about this is utterly mesmerizing in a way you didn’t anticipate.

“Somewhere in there, probably.” Yoshiko closes her fist and the tiny tear in reality vanishes. The chill goes with it, and you suddenly feel more _real_ than the moment before. “Don’t wanna leave that open too long. I’m not exactly sure what effect the void has on living things, but I can’t imagine _nothing_ takes very well to… _something._ We’ll have to be quick when we open the full portal tomorrow.”

“And you’re sure this is safe?” The lingering image of pure nothingness trying to siphon away the very air around you is giving you pause.

“Well. What we’re doing _is_ unprecedented. You’re not exactly… supposed to open a portal to the void. So it could be unstable even if we cast the spell perfectly, but as long as we do it _right_ , it should be manageable. That means stay focused, do exactly as I do, and _don’t look at it._ I’m sure you noticed how hard it was to look away?”

You involuntarily gulp. It was impossible, even at such a small scale. You notice your breathing, feel your heart beating as you imagine how easy it will be to slip up and succumb to your nightmare.

“Woah, hey.” Yoshiko tentatively lays a hand on your shoulder to pull you back to the moment, and for some reason it works. “Of course there are risks. But we’ll be fine as long as you follow my lead.”

“You’re sure?” You can hear your voice straining for confirmation, validation of your hope.

“Sure as I can be. So you know what that means.”

“Am I supposed to know how to answer that?”

“It means we celebrate!” She claps her hands together to punctuate. “You have any booze around here?”

“I…” For a brief moment, you consider keeping her away from your supply of sake, but she’s worn you down. You can’t say no to her anymore, responsible as she is for your sister’s imminent return. “Yeah, come on.”

With little thought beyond the incalculable joy you will feel tomorrow, you raid your liquor cabinet and retrieve a few bottles. You and Yoshiko crack them open unceremoniously, pour carefully - you can’t abide improper ceremony no matter the situation - and start downing them, one after another. You lose track at three.

Head buzzing and wobbling, you finally take a full cup and just sit with it, leaning back, sighing. After all this, it was worth it, wasn’t it? Inviting this demon into your home, hosting her like anyone else, letting her speak Ruby’s name. The admission comes easier with alcohol in your system.

“I’m so ready for tomorrow,” Yoshiko announces, not slurring but tilting back and forth just enough for you to notice. “I can’t believe I’m gonna see Ruby again.”

“Are you sure she’ll want to see you after all this?” You can only think of your nightmare. How impossible it must be to face the person who did that to you.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Yoshiko rears up animatedly, scandalized. “I _kinda_ don’t think you wanna know how close we are, let’s just leave it at… I love her. And she loves me.”

_Oh, God._ A corner of your mind laments Yoshiko’s lack of tact, blaming it at first on the sake but quickly realizing she’d probably put it the same way sober. You, on the other hand, are just drunk enough to drop your shame for a moment.

“Yoshiko, did you…” You gag on the words at first, but you’re too intent on grilling Yoshiko now. Even if you probably already know the answer, it’ll be fun to see her squirm. “Did you fuck my sister?”

“Uh…” Yoshiko repeatedly tries to stammer out a response, but keeps coming up short. Her face glows bright red, though you realize she may have already been halfway there from the sake. Something is immensely satisfying about provoking this reaction from her.

“Relax, I’m… I think I'm too drunk to be mad at you for that.” To drive the point home, you empty your cup all at once and pour yourself another. You give Yoshiko the most reassuring smile you can manage, and her fading blush lights up again.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

* * *

You roll over and wake before your alarm goes off on Thursday, September 20th. Not for excitement, or a nightmare, but because you're too dehydrated to stay asleep. Not wanting to invoke the wrath of your headache just yet, you settle for opening your eyes.

Yoshiko is in your bed.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and try again.

No, she’s still there. Still asleep, face shrouded by a mess of black hair.

What did you _do_ last night? Seconds dilate to hours as you try to make sense of what you’re seeing. While you’re loath to admit it, yes, maybe your opinion of Yoshiko has softened over the past few days. Just a little. But she started from rock bottom in your estimation, so _why the fuck is she in your bed?_ You cover your mouth so as not to scream, but not before letting out a sharp gasp.

Yoshiko groans and shifts, and for a split second you’re convinced you’ll have to have the inevitable conversation far before you’re ready. But she sighs her own sleepy sigh and settles back into pristine stillness.

_Thank God._ You escape the covers as quietly as you can to tiptoe away for some water, and to try your hardest to forget this ever happened.

* * *

You were quite sure your haunting was over, but the images keep resurging in your mind, no matter how you try to distract yourself. Waking up next to Yoshiko, seeing her shamble into the kitchen hours later sporting the most obnoxious shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen, watching her bite her tongue over and over at breakfast trying not to tease you. She should count herself lucky that she’s your only chance to see Ruby again. _Extremely_ lucky.

You’re finishing your second cup of tea in silence, nursing your headache, while Yoshiko browses her phone. Neither of you will venture a glance at the other for more than a few seconds. You inhale conspicuously, ready to break the silence, when your text tone goes off. It’s Kanan.

_hey, just checking in i’m sure tomorrow’s gonna be hard so is there anything i can do for you? wanna hit up the bar again maybe? :p_

Your stomach turns slightly at the mention of more alcohol, and the echo of what it made you do. Maybe you should cut back for a while after this.

_I think I’ll pass this time. But I appreciate it. I’ll let you know how today goes._

Hopefully that’s ambiguous enough. You haven’t mentioned any of this magic nonsense to Kanan, on the suspicion that it would ultimately solve nothing. But this close to actually accomplishing something with it, you figure you might as well wait until it’s all over.

You can send her a picture of yourself and Ruby. Or maybe you’d rather see the look on her face. You’ll figure that out later. Right now, mercifully, the thought of seeing your little sister again is so overwhelming as to push everything else aside. You clear your throat to get Yoshiko’s attention.

“So when are we doing this? When are we getting Ruby back?”

Yoshiko, wholly absorbed by the silence, jumps and drops her phone on the table with a loud smack. It seems you’ve shocked the smile off her face, too. Good.

“Uh.” She picks her phone back up and keeps scrolling to delay eye contact. “I guess we can do that whenever. Might as well get started, actually, so we have time left in the day if something goes wrong.”

The idea of something going wrong on this, _the_ day, makes your shoulders tense up and your breath catch for a moment. You shake it out of your head. Now is the time to stay focused. In the moment.

This will all be over soon.

* * *

Yoshiko lays out her book, opened to a dog-eared page with the margins marked up and down in various colors of ink. She lines up her tiny jars of materials just so on the coffee table, and spreads out several ragged, torn sheets of paper on the floor. Slowly, deliberately - more carefully than you’ve seen her do anything - she draws an ornate series of concentric circles, intersecting lines and smaller circles along its circumference, probably for the material components. Sure enough, she grabs her jars and pinches out portions for each node in the bizarre rune, carefully laying them down. Taking deep, measured breaths, she clears away everything extraneous and turns her gaze to you, making eye contact for the longest interval since last night.

“Come on, I’ll show you the incantation.”

You gingerly sit down across the circle from Yoshiko, taking care not to sweep anything away from its rightful place. She flips the book around and hands it to you, pointing out a section marked with mundane yellow highlighter. The passage looks like a poem, short lines and regular breaks, but you’re not certain you can pronounce anything you’re looking at. Your heart thumps a little harder. You can’t mess this up.

Noticing your trepidation, Yoshiko recites it properly once, twice, thrice. It still means nothing to you, but gradually, the words begin to echo in your mind, taking form. You just need to hold onto them until this is done.

You sigh and shake your head to expel anything unnecessary. Let the lingering memory of grief drift away, the loneliness, the absurd tangle that writhes every time you look at Yoshiko. The excitement, too, the longing to see your little sister.

“Ruby…” You hope saying her name will push it just far enough away for you to be well and truly clear-headed, focused for this momentous occasion. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“Then watch me, and do what I do.”

With that, Yoshiko closes her eyes, claps her hands together like she’s visiting a shrine, and begins reciting the eldritch poem. She starts repeating it, opening one eye just enough to suggest you join in. You mimic her pose and add your voice to hers, in as close to perfect unison as you likely ever could be with Yoshiko Tsushima.

On your third repetition, you begin to hear a whooshing sound, and feel that chill from before. You slip, just for a moment, and open one eye as wide as you dare to see a spot of pure blackness forming in the circle between yourself and Yoshiko. It’s larger than the one that Yoshiko conjured for you before, and it commands your attention to match. You try to tear your gaze away from it, but can’t seem to close your eyes anymore.

You helplessly glance at Yoshiko, her eyes closed, still reciting the incantation. But inexorable gravity pulls your eyes back down to the darkness, growing, gnawing away at the circle like a swarm of unseen insects. You gasp, and notice that you’ve stopped reciting the words. And the darkness still grows, yawning, creeping closer to Yoshiko every second. She remains still, weaving her spell, unshakeable.

“Yoshiko!” You cry over the now gaping hole in your living room, roaring as it siphons your air into the emptiness on the other side.

She lets one eye open slightly, like taking too much of anything into her sight will doom her. Like it’s already doomed you, because once she notices you both eyes snap open and her mouth hangs open, silent. She mouths something at you across the screaming gale of the portal, something that looks like ‘don’t look at it.’

But it’s too late. Without thinking, your gaze just keeps wandering back to this door to nothingness. Looking for Ruby, maybe. Shame, with the effort you put into keeping a clear head for this.

Shame, because now you can feel the chill grasping and clawing at your legs. It knocks you off balance like an undertow, and now the cold envelops your lower half. You haven’t seen Ruby yet. Is she coming? The chill creeps up to the pit of your stomach as you realize she may never come. This could all be going wrong, probably is. Because you couldn’t do it right. Now your arms are going, starting from the fingertips like frostbite. You’ve been desperately trying to close your eyes, but now it doesn’t matter. Eyes open, you see nothing. There is nothing.

And here you are. Nowhere. It’s closer to your nightmare than you want to admit. You try to force your mind off it, keep yourself sane somehow.

Well, if you’re here, maybe you can find Ruby. Then you’ll at least have each other.

But as you prepare to accept this fate, the thought is derailed by a limb wrapping around your midsection, knocking the air out of your lungs - though you were quite sure there was none left in them to begin with. A sudden rush of light blinds you, and you reflexively shut your eyes. You gasp for air, feel it rushing down your windpipe. You try to rub the ringing out of your ears, and after a few moments it goes quiet. Too quiet - oh God, have you lost your hearing?

“Dia?”

A voice finds you, though. You realize it only felt too quiet because the roar of the portal is gone. But it doesn’t sound like Yoshiko. It’s too small, too earnest.

Your heart thumps into overdrive as you open your eyes, blink away the blinding living room light, and see those eyes looking into yours.

_Ruby._

She’s here. She found you, pulled you back through the portal just as Yoshiko was closing it, it seems. As your vision returns, more of her features filter in, and something seems _off._ Maybe it’s just the lighting, but she looks… different from how you remember.

You sit up, try to get a better look. Sure enough, it’s her. Your little sister, Ruby Kurosawa, sitting right next to you. But she _is_ different. Her whole body is tinted a similar shade of pure darkness as the portal. Radiating that same cold, too. She’s a living shadow, almost more like a Ruby-shaped hole in reality. But those _eyes._ They’re unmistakable, coming through clearer than ever.

“Ruby? Is that you? Are you really _here?_ ” Your voice sounds breathless to you. Appropriate, for about a million reasons.

“It’s me.” Her tiny voice is layered with unintelligible whispers, but you’d still recognize it anywhere. That voice you’ve been missing for a year. “And… I think so, it’s kind of hard to tell after so long.”

“How do you feel?”

“Kinda dizzy,” she mutters, slumping over. You reach out to lay your hand on her shoulder, steady her, prove to yourself that she really is here. She’s soft. Cool. Carrying that chill with her like a scar, and trembling.

“It’ll be okay, Ruby. I’m here for you.” Finally, you can say it again.

“I missed you so much, Dia.” Her voice begins to waver as she steadies, laying a hand on yours. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. Before I turned into… this.”

You wordlessly engulf her in a hug, in every hug you would have given her in the last year, and she weakly reciprocates. The chill feels closer than ever, like she’s leeching the warmth out of your body, but you’d gladly hold on until you died of hypothermia. You try to think of something to say, but all you can do is sob. The past month has been so much to process that it all comes spilling over at once, now that the tension is released.

Now that Ruby is home.

You start shivering, and another pair of hands has to pry you off of Ruby. You dry your eyes weakly, shakily, and see Yoshiko. For her part, she looks like she’s seen a ghost. Or whatever the equivalent would be for a witch.

“I’m gonna be honest, that should not have worked as well as it did.”

“I know, I know, I did the spell wrong.” You’d roll your eyes if you had the energy. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“To be fair, we were, uh, both a little distracted. But it was unstable anyway-”

“Yoshiko,” Ruby interrupts. “Shut up and hug me. I missed you too. And I’m cold.”

“Missed you too,” Yoshiko mumbles as she complies. She sighs and leans into Ruby's embrace, truly relaxing at last. From this angle, she looks about to melt into the shadows.

You use the moment free to collapse onto the couch, drained in the same way you always got after Aqours performances. And just as satisfied. More so, really. You fish your phone out of your pocket - luckily, it wasn’t disintegrated during your brief trip to the void - and open up your messages with Kanan.

“Hey, you two, let me get a picture.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, this one's wild. This started as a fairly light-hearted idea that got darker and darker the more I thought about it. But it'll still have a happy ending, trust me! I drafted this all at once, but it got kinda long so I'm splitting it up. Gonna try to post a chapter a week, so stay tuned.
> 
> This fic was an experiment in a lot of ways, so massive thanks to Asallia and Ottermelon for helping me edit this into a decent place. Couldn't hurt Dia the same without y'all <3


End file.
